


to no set gauge they make us

by the_ragnarok



Series: find happiness in misery [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Brief lactation mention, Cis male nipples referred to as tits, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Open Relationships, Past Rape/Non-con, Recovery, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22668835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: The plan spends a long time percolating in the back of Martin's mind. When he's finally ready to admit to it, it's a fully fledged scheme, complete with researching professionals and rates, as well as a comprehensive data collection on required aftercare.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Series: find happiness in misery [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630777
Comments: 19
Kudos: 298





	to no set gauge they make us

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to mx_carter for speedy beta, and to exmoose for enabling and encouraging me!

The paper in front of Martin has a table, drawn in shaky blue lines. The column headings are, "painful/damaging", "neutral", and "positive". The overall title is, "wank fantasy elements".

"I can't do this," Martin says, staring blankly at the page.

"It's hard, I know." Howard, his therapist, adjusts his glasses. "But you've done a lot of difficult things since you started coming here, and haven't those been helpful?"

"Ugh." Martin grimaces. He picks up the pen again. "Alright."

"Start with the ones you just told me about."

Martin puts down "hair pulling" and "gagging" in the "damaging" column, hesitates and adds "gangbangs" below that. Then his hand freezes where it's holding the pen.

"Martin?" Howard prompts. "Is something giving you trouble?"

"I don't know where to put this," Martin says, eyes on the page. 

"Why don't you tell me more?"

Martin blushes and reminds himself that Howard must have heard a lot worse. "There was, um, the bit where Peter pierced my nipples and then played with it." Howard nods, his expression serene. "I keep thinking about that."

"And how," Howard says, "if you'll pardon the cliche, does that make you feel?" Martin gives him a helpless look. "Are you drawn to hurting yourself after you fantasize about it? Does it make you hate yourself?"

After a brief silence, Martin says, "It feels like it should." He looks down at his own chest, unremarkable beneath his bottle-green jumper. "I miss having my nipples played with," he mumbles. 

Howard leans forward in his chair and pushes the water glass he'd poured earlier for Martin towards him. Martin takes it. Howard says, "Have you tried touching yourself?"

Martin's cheeks heat up even worse. Given the amount of talking he and Howard do about his sex life, he'd have expected to become inured to embarrassment. And yet, here he is. "Yeah. It was good, except I felt guilty after."

Howard's expression goes intent. "What Peter did to you was horrible. Beside hurting you in the moment, he's taken a lot of things you enjoyed away from you. Is it so bad that you still like this?"

"But it doesn't make sense!" Martin bursts out, frustrated. "He calls me a good boy once and I can't stand to hear it again, he sends me to the fucking hospital by piercing my nipples and I imagine it when I'm tossing off. What's wrong with me?"

"You're human," Howard says dryly. "I'm afraid that's just how trauma works - in mysterious, and sometimes very odd ways. Had what he did to you put you off nipple play or piercings completely, that would be completely unremarkable - and the same is true for you finding it arousing. But in this case, you're left with something that you enjoy. That's a good thing." He stands up. "Tea?"

Martin scrambles to rise. "I can--"

"Sit down," Howard says firmly, "and let yourself be cared for. Consider this another exercise." He sighs. "Let yourself rest. You've worked hard today."

It's extremely annoying to Martin that talking about himself for an hour can be hard work, but he can't deny that he's feeling drained.

Howard comes back with the tea. "Now let's write this down."

Martin swallows, tries unsuccessfully to steady his hand, and puts down "nipple piercing" in the "positive" column, just barely legible.

* * *

Martin looks in the mirror and bites his lip. He can do this. He takes his shirt off and faces the mirror.

A familiar view greets him: pale skin, numerous freckles, and a pair of pink nipples. No evidence of the piercing at all that he can see. He twists his nipple, trying to see, and gasps at the sensation. Right. Still sensitive, he should have remembered that.

In his defense, his chest has been a long time healing. Apparently even clean piercings took many months to heal, and what Peter did to him was... not that. 

Martin sighs and goes to put his shirt back on.

* * *

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Tim asks, eyeing Martin critically. 

Martin shrugs, mouth dry. It had taken a lot out of him to ask. "Never know until we try, I suppose."

Tim considers. "Maybe we should start by doing vanilla sex with nipple play." He laughs at Martin's expression. "Okay, no vanilla sex, got it."

In Martin's defense, vanilla sex tends to leave him more upset than most kinky kinds that aren't an outright trigger. It feels like trying to make himself sleep with a woman; it just doesn't feel right. "We could, um. Make out while you call me names?"

Tim brightens. "Ooh, yes. I never say no to that."

Twenty minutes and some more negotiation later find Martin in Tim's lap with his shirt off, blushing and squirming while Tim pinches his nipples. "You make such a cute slut," Tim tells him. "Love getting you all worked up and panting for my cock." 

Martin lets out a breathless moan, rocking his erection against Tim's. "Oh fuck, please."

Tim pinches him, making him yelp. "Please, what?" he asks. "Be specific, slut."

"Please touch my tits," Martin says, breathy. He whimpers when Tim twists his nipples. 

"Yeah? Make them stand out like they're begging for me?" Tim twists again, grinning at the sounds Martin makes. "Maybe if I squeezed enough I'll see milk coming out."

The noise those words drive out of Martin doesn't sound human. Tim'd asked about this, earlier, and Martin agreed to try, but he hadn't expected the effect to be so powerful. "Oh fuck, fuck, Tim, please!"

Mercilessly, Tim keeps torturing his tits. "Get you on all fours and yank on your teats like a cow. You're not even good enough to be a slut, you're an animal. Begging to be bred. Let me hear you."

Martin lets out a few whimpers before rallying his words. Fuck, his nipples hurt, and it's fantastic. "Yes, please, anything you want."

Tim's hand is gentle when he pushes Martin, just hard enough for Martin to take the hint and lie down on the bed. Manhandling, to Martin's regret, did not go on the "positive" column. Once Martin is on his back, Tim straddles his hips. He drives their cocks together for a few moments, just enough to make Martin cry out, and then he lowers his face to Martin's chest.

Tim is moving slowly enough that Martin could call him off. Martin doesn't, heart hammering in his chest as he watches Tim take a nipple between his teeth and scrape the sharp edges against sensitive skin. "Oh fuck," Martin gasps. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh-- _ah_!" Because Tim is sucking his nipple, sucking properly, pinching the other one and that's it, Martin's gone.

A few moments pass with no sound except Martin's ragged breathing. Tim, incredulous, says, "Did you just come?"

"Yeah." Martin stares dreamily at the ceiling. "Give me five minutes, I'll do you."

"You know what I think?" Tim gathers him close. "I think I have a couple of pretty toys here," he gives one nipple a twist, "and I'm not done playing."

Martin groans, "Fuck, Tim, I can't get hard again yet, have mercy." 

Tim shuffles close behind him and whispers, "You don't come to me for mercy, do you?" But his hand squeezes Martin's, an agreed upon question, and Martin gives one quick squeeze back, then moans some more as Tim bites his neck.

* * *

The plan spends a long time percolating in the back of Martin's mind. When he's finally ready to admit to it, it's a fully fledged scheme, complete with researching professionals and rates, as well as a comprehensive data collection on required aftercare.

Martin broaches it to Jon first. They're sat on the sofa in Jon's living room, Jon's cold feet tucked under Martin's thigh. Jon is doing a crossword puzzle, and Martin has his poetry notebook in hand, although the page is mostly scribbled out.

"I've had a thought," Martin says. "Um, it's kind of a serious thing, but to do with icky stuff?"

"Are you ever going to let me forget that phrasing?" Jon sighs, but he doesn't sound really irritated. He does appreciate Martin asking before broaching these topics, he'd said so. "What is it?"

"I want to get my nipples pierced. Properly this time," Martin hurries to add, "by someone who knows what they're doing, and take the right kind of care of them after."

Jon stares at him. "It's your body," he finally says, strangled. "I have no idea why on Earth you'd want that, but," he swallows, "if it'll make you happy, of course you should do it."

Martin ducks his head. "My therapist said something about reclaiming my body and my pleasure, I don't know. But yeah, it makes me happy to think about it."

Jon nods. "Alright then. Do you want tea?"

Martin stands up, putting a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Yeah, I'll go make some. You sit tight."

"I can make my own tea," Jon says, but it's a token objection at this point. He knows what Martin gets out of seeing the cup in Jon's hand, the look on Jon's face, knowing that Martin helped put it there.

* * *

Tim's more sceptical when Martin tells him. "You just got your nipples healed up properly," he says. "Do you really want to go another year without touching them, now?"

"I have definite proof that I can go without for that long," Martin points out. "And think of how good it'll be when I'm back in commission." He pushes close and whispers in Tim's ear, "You could connect them to a chain and lead me by it."

Tim groans and throws his head back. "God, you don't have to convince me, I'm already hard thinking about your tits like that." He sobers a little. "I'm worried."

"My therapist put his seal of approval," Martin offers, "so I don't think it's that bad an idea."

Tim sighs. "You're the boss." He tilts his head. "In the meantime, want to make the most of your nipples being touchable?"

"How about yes," Martin says, already wrestling his shirt off.

* * *

Jon had offered to accompany Martin to the piercing artist, an offer Martin had turned down. Judging by the sigh of guilty relief Jon had let out, that had been the right decision.

Instead, Tim is there with him, holding his hand. "Still time to back off," Tim whispers.

Martin does not blame Tim, whose hand he'd been squeezing far too hard ever since they came in here. Even so, "This is what I want."

"Alright," says the piercing artist. Zie has a green mohawk, three eyebrow piercings, gauged ears, and a bunch of other facial piercings that Martin doesn't know the names of. Martin had shivered while zie'd taken a look at his nipples, waiting for zir to ask him about his scars, about what kind of idiot let this happen to them. 

All zie had said, though, was, "Bad first attempt?" And Martin had nodded weakly, and tried to remember none of it had been his fault. 

Now zie says, "Lie back, and take a deep breath, okay? Close your eyes."

Martin obeys, breathes when the piercing artist says, again and again. "Now breathe in," zie says, and pain goes through Martin - well, like a needle through flesh.

It hurts worse than it did with Peter, but that's good. Martin can feel pain overwriting his previous experiences, washing them away.

"Breathe," the piercing artist says again. Zie lets him have a few more breaths before continuing to the other nipple.

A weird sound echoes in the room. It takes Martin a minute to realize that's him laughing. "Sorry," he tells the piercing artist as zie finishes and moves away. He raises his hand, the one not currently crushing Tim's, to his face and wipes off tears.

"Nothing to worry about," the piercing artist says. "Happens all the time." Zie sits them down to discuss aftercare and signs that Martin should seek immediate medical attention. Martin walks out feeling like he's walking on air.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this addled," Tim says. "Should I be hurt?" 

Martin turns, but Tim's eyes are crinkled in a smile. Martin lets his head fall against Tim's shoulder. "Take me home?"

"Sure. Whose?"

Martin rolls his eyes and mumbles his answer. All the way to Tim's flat, he holds Martin's hand.

* * *

They stop at the store on the way back, Martin blinking at the neon lights while Tim stalks around with purpose. At Tim's, a bowl of strawberries and cream manifests in front of Martin, and he tucks in with only the barest remnants of guilt. Tim eats right alongside him, which helps.

"Thank you," Martin says. He's practicing saying that instead of apologizing.

Tim squeezes his shoulder and grins. "My pleasure." He waggles his eyebrows. "Literally."

"Really." Martin's own eyebrows rise. "Liked watching needles get poked through me, did you?"

Tim gives an easy shrug. "You know I think your nipples are hot."

Martin blushes but says, "Is that so?"

He doesn't remember exactly how, but they transition to Martin sitting in Tim's lap, begging for what he knows he won't get. "Please, please, I want you so bad."

"Use your words," Tim chides, hand torturously slow on Martin's dick. 

"Suck on my tits," Martin says, low, then groans when Tim bites his shoulder hard. "Ow!"

"I want to hear you," Tim says, unrepentant. 

Louder this time, Martin says, "Suck on my tits," voice coming out in a hitching whimper. "Bite them, pinch them, let me feel you."

Now Tim groans. "Christ, I want to. God damn, Martin, do you have any idea how hot you are with your nipple in my mouth, begging to come? And now you're making me wait a whole year before I can do it again. Rude." He yanks Martin close so that his back is flush with Tim's chest and whispers in his ear. "You know what I'm going to do, when those are healed? 

Tim's voice is throaty, intimate. "I'm going to take you to a party, and make you take your shirt off so everyone can see your pretty tits. Then I'm going to connect your nipples with a chain, so the weight feels like someone tugging at them every minute. Then I'm going to pull you around the party on that chain like a leash, and let everyone who wants a go maul your tits until you're crying. How does that sound?"

Martin replies with an incoherent moan, his cock spurting in Tim's grip. Tim angles him so he doesn't hit his own chest, which he appreciates, then says, "Why don't you suck my cock for me, slut?" 

It's good. So good. Even if Tim makes Martin change the sheets later. Martin doesn't really mind that.

* * *

When Martin comes into Jon's flat, he is pacing the room. He turns as Martin enters. "Good. You're here. Take your shirt off."

Martin halts, blinks and considers the possibility that he might have stepped into some alternate universe. "What?"

Jon makes impatient movements. "Your shirt. Take it off. I want to see." He looks at Martin's face, and in his Dom voice asks, "Do you want to show me?"

"Only if you really want to see," Martin says, rattled. 

"I said so, didn't I? Get on with it." 

Martin obeys, albeit with shaky hands and a, "Why?"

Jon doesn't answer him at first, surveying Martin's chest. The piercing artist had charged a bunch, but zie was worth every penny according to the reviews Martin read, and zie's done a neat job with him, the vertical bars through his nipples standing straight and proud. Jon takes a deep breath and nods. "Alright. How are you feeling? You can put your shirt back on."

Martin's chest still hurts as he carefully struggles back into his shirt, and he's a little woozy. That said, the answer to Jon's question is simple enough: "Good."

"I want to help you when you take care of it," Jon says. 

"Okay, have you been abducted by aliens? Should I be looking for pods?"

Jon huffs. "Christ." When Martin looks at him again, though, Jon looks oddly solemn. "You said this was about... some kind of do-over for you. Rewriting bad experiences with good ones."

Cautious, Martin says, "Yes?"

"I want a chance to give you the kind of care you wouldn't take from me the first time around," Jon says simply. 

Martin sits down on the sofa with a thump. He's not surprised to be tearing up again. He scrubs at his face. "You're an impossible man and I love you." 

He hadn't said that before. Felt it, yeah, but never felt confident enough to speak the words. This, though - God, how else is he meant to respond?

"Me too." Jon's voice is hoarse. "Martin. May I hug you?"

"When have I ever said no to that?" Martin demands, and doesn't wait for an answer before wrapping his arms around Jon's waist.


End file.
